


lights

by halcyonqueen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Copious Amounts of Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Top!Zayn, bottom!Niall, ziall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:19:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyonqueen/pseuds/halcyonqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>niall’s sitting on the examination table with a bandage on his arm, and zayn sits in the chair across from him, toying with the skeleton model on the desk. the doctor walks in, taps his clipboard, and zayn’s eyes practically bug out of his head when the word ‘pregnant’ floats out of his mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

they’re in spain, and zayn just assumes niall’s come down with a case of food poisoning from the seafood restaurant louis decided they were going to eat at last night. all zayn knows is that niall’s been throwing up for four mornings in a row, now, and maybe they should take him to a hospital before he pukes all over himself on stage?

paul struggles to remember spanish as they sit in the waiting room of a hospital in madrid, and zayn feels a little weird as he sees people with broken limbs and runny noses all staring at two members of the most popular boy band in the world casually perched on a cheap sofa next to magazines that have their own faces on the covers.

“y’alright?” niall mutters, nudging zayn’s shoulder, and zayn snaps himself out of it and nods, running a hand through the flat mess of his hair.

“yeah. i’m good.”

niall gets taken back half past one, and zayn goes outside and smokes when the nurse tells him in broken english “doctor’s time now, doctor’s time now!” there are a few girls who flit around him, ask him for a photo, and he smiles as best as he can and leans towards the white iphones in their hands. one cigarette turns into another, and he’s smoked three and is having an in-depth conversation with a man who broke his hand trying to drag his dog out from underneath of his car when paul forcibly drags him inside.

niall’s sitting on the examination table with a bandage on his arm, and zayn sits in the chair across from him, toying with the skeleton model on the desk. the doctor walks in, taps his clipboard, and zayn’s eyes practically bug out of his head when the word ‘pregnant’ floats out of his mouth.

“wait – what?” and niall looks like he’s about to start seizing on the table, knuckles white as he clutches the edge of the shitty sheet placed there for privacy, and zayn almost starts crying when the man with graying hair repeats it again.

“five weeks. from what the blood tests show.”

niall sits there in shock and zayn actually starts crying for a moment, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket and just continually running his hands through his hair. this is going to ruin their tour, ruin their _lives_ , and what are the others going to think? what are they going to do, just walk on the tour bus and casually announce “oh, hey, it’s not food poisoning, just a baby!”

they walk out of the office with a prescription for prenatal vitamins and an appointment with a doctor in london next week. the car ride back to the hotel is mostly silent, niall’s forehead pressed against the window and zayn staring aimlessly through the texts on his phone from the others, liam and harry and louis asking if niall’s okay.

he presses the group text button and replies with “yeah.”

\--

the tour’s been cancelled, that much zayn could predict – but they’re settling in a flat complex in the city, just like when they were kids, fresh off of the x-factor, and at least they’re recording for their third album in relative peace.

niall’s come down with a “sudden illness,” and at least the fans respect that, even if it’s summer time and this is normally when the girls get crazy, storm their front doors and mob their cars when they pull out of the driveways. zayn’s gotten more used to the thought of having a baby around, even if niall _is_ only ten weeks and there’s barely any bump to speak of, considering that niall’s taken to wearing baggy hoodies and big t-shirts, even around the house.

it’s not much of a fashion change, really – it’s not like zayn’s the one doing it, wearing sweats around town when he’s normally clad in things that spout designer labels and hefty price tags.

they go to niall’s second doctor’s appointment on a cloudy friday morning, and zayn laughs a bit when niall’s nose wrinkles at the numbers on the scale. zayn sits next to the table as niall pulls his shirt up, shuddering when the cold gel’s spread over his belly, but he smiles when the fuzzy black and gray picture shows up on the screen, _woosh woosh woosh_ of the baby’s heartbeat filling the room, and zayn rests his chin in his hand as the nurse points out the head, the legs, the feet, the fingers and toes.

it looks like a blob, but zayn lets his thoughts run, thinks of a little girl with his complexion and niall’s grin, a boy with niall’s smile and his nose. they go home with a folder of ultrasound photos, and zayn promptly pins one to the fridge, and niall leans his head on his shoulder, fingers toying with the edge of his shirt, smile flickering over his face as zayn tilts to kiss his head.

niall falls asleep on him on the sofa later, right through the middle of skyfall, and zayn sees one of his hands resting gently on the tiny swell of his belly, and for some reason, it doesn’t matter that they’re nineteen and twenty, it doesn’t matter that their managers are pissed at them and that when louis found out, he wouldn’t talk to them for three days because he “really was looking forward to going to america, and you’ve gone and ruined it!”

zayn accepts that he is going to be a father sometime in january, sometime after his birthday, and he’s perfectly okay with that. he toys with the soft tufts of niall’s hair as he sleeps, watching james bond get up to some antic or another, jumping out of planes and landing in the ocean, and zayn decides long after the movie’s over that he’s going to have to carry niall to bed.

zayn falls asleep with niall sprawled out both across him and the bed.

\--

they’re in a meeting concerning a potential collaboration with ed sheeran when niall gets the call that they’re having a girl. he promptly breaks down crying, and the meeting’s gone to hell as harry orders a bottle of champagne from the office building’s café service and zayn sits shellshocked as liam and louis practically tackle him into a group hug.

“a girl! it’s a girl, mate! congratulations!” louis pops open the bottle and sprays it across harry’s face, and even liam has a cup of it – niall’s fine with not drinking, he’s too distracted by the news at hand at the moment, and zayn’s just a bundle of smiles, teeth and grins as he wraps an arm around niall’s shoulder and presses a trail of kisses to his head, his neck, his arms, his cheeks, and zayn catches niall talking to his stomach later on at night, hands pressed to the bottom of the curve, face red as he tries to discover words and feelings for something that he can’t see but has a relationship with nonetheless.

they announce it on twitter later on, and there are so many hashtags for them, proclaiming the fandom’s love for the ziall child and throwing out name suggestions left and right as niall actually googles their meanings on his phone as he sees them pop up on his laptop. niall is in the middle of a sentence when he suddenly stops and grabs zayn’s hand, pressing it to the side of his stomach, and it feels like there are bubbles popping underneath of his skin, subtle little swift movements that are gone as quickly as they came.

“was that – “ and niall nods, laughing, settling more into zayn’s side and curiously poking around his belly button through his shirt. “think she’s kicking. not sure, but i think that’s what it was?” zayn’s content to watch as niall tries to get her to start up again, and when he gives up he flops down across the thin length of zayn’s legs, pawing at the stubble on his chin.

“kind of like the name emma. do you?”

“yeah. sounds great. emma horan?”

there’s a pause.

“nah. think emma malik sounds better?”

zayn’s face is red, and he snorts and lets his head tilt back to look at the ceiling.

“yeah, emma malik sounds fine. you’re sure, though?”

niall wriggles his way up to sit in zayn’s lap, pressing the small curve of his belly against the flat tones of zayn’s, and he presses his forehead to the other’s, looking into the brown depths of zayn’s eyes with sparkling blue ones.

“i think that niall malik sounds kind of alright, too?”

zayn could choke on his spit at the moment, but niall’s already got his hand sliding down zayn’s pants, groping at his cock through his boxers, and when niall gets on his knees and the familiar motion of his head bobbing up and down starts up, zayn lets himself fist his hands in blonde hair.


	2. Chapter 2

niall goes back to mullingar a week before his birthday, because he’s nervous and suddenly scared about being so far away from home when their daughter arrives. zayn goes with him, and they settle into niall’s room in the old creaky house that belongs to his mother, exchanging his childhood bed for one with a proper mattress and a new frame.

niall’s hormones have skyrocketed; he’s horny all the time now, and as he bounces up and down on zayn’s cock and half rasps half shouts how good it feels, zayn wonders if he’s going to be like this for the next four months of the pregnancy, when niall will finally turn moody and wind down, because so far he hasn’t had any emotional fits that he remembers his mother having when she was pregnant with his youngest sister.

he has one in the kitchen with his brother four days later, and niall’s actually in _tears_ , and before maura or zayn can get between them he’s launched a plate at greg, and it narrowly misses his head as niall keeps on screaming about how it’s not funny to joke about his weight. he stops and grips at his stomach after a moment, and zayn panics, his vision turning white, and he guides him to the sofa, settling next to him, and niall shakes his head and says, “it’s just a cramp. i’m upset and it’s a cramp. that’s all.”

maura keeps him in bed for the rest of the day, sending zayn out to stores who’s names he can barely pronounce, and he lugs a bag of soups, meats and crackers up the front steps before taking the inside ones two at a time to see how niall’s doing. niall’s thankfully asleep, and zayn eavesdrops at the top of the steps to try to understand what the spat in the kitchen was all about – and from what he can hear, greg thought calling niall a cow was funny. he decides not to risk a fight, because really, it’s not worth getting kicked out of the house for something he shouldn’t stick his nose in.

zayn falls asleep beside niall, closing his eyes and listening to his heartbeat, seeing his chest rise and fall and noticing his t-shirt creeping up the bulge of his stomach. he’s not that big, yet, but things are getting along, and his fingers trail along the small strip of pale skin showing just underneath the hem of his shirt.

“you’re gonna be loved,” he whispers, mostly to himself, because he’s not that daring to sneak his head down to niall’s stomach _just_ yet. “gonna be the next sensation, little girl. the sixth member of one direction.”

he laughs at himself, and zayn tucks his head into niall’s shoulder, hand sprawled flat on his stomach, faint movements of the baby felt from underneath as she starts stirring around for the night. niall’s hands unconsciously grip the fabric of his jumper, and zayn feels himself relax into it.

\--

zayn comes back from a promotional concert in manchester and niall flies into his grasp, burying his face in his shoulder and kissing him all over, standing on his tiptoes and frowning.

“you got taller. it’s been three days, how did you get bloody fucking taller?”

“you got wider.”

niall sticks his tongue out and puts his hands on either side of his belly, rubbing small circles up and down as he bumps his stomach into the front of zayn’s. “missed you.”

“missed you, too.”

and it’s a whirlwind of flying clothes and kissing, and zayn’s got niall on his back, biting at his neck and shoulders, niall laughing openly underneath of him as zayn fumbles around desperately for the condoms and lubricant shoved into the bedside table’s drawer.

“been too long, aye?”

“yeah,” and zayn’s got one slick finger inside of him, and niall quiets up, small groan coming from the back of his throat as his hips tilt upwards and he wraps his arms around zayn’s neck. “shit, zayn – “ and niall fumbles down over the mound of his belly to fist himself, smearing the pre-cum from the head of his cock down his shaft, biting his lip when zayn crooks upwards with two fingers, aiming to make him scream his name, and zayn’s sliding into him soon enough – they don’t bother with condoms, anymore (because how could niall get pregnant if he already is, and besides, they’re both clean) and niall’s shooting his load all over zayn’s chest and the lower part of his abdomen within twenty minutes, and zayn flops beside him after the familiar feeling of niall tightening around him and then the sudden shift of pressure in his lower belly spits out of him like rapidfire.

zayn’s lifting niall’s arm up, kissing from his fingertips to his elbow, and niall grunts and rolls over, back to him, and zayn’s kissing his shoulders and gently nipping over the bruises where he’s kissed him a little too hard.

“go to sleep,” niall mutters, shoving away from him, repositioning himself so he can get more comfortable, and zayn sits near the window and inhales a drag of a cigarette, despite the fact that he’s told himself to quit a hundred thousand times now. he’ll always have time before the baby’s born, after all, but then again, there’s only… what, fifteen weeks now? niall’s past the halfway mark, now; he’s twenty-five weeks and twenty years old, and they’re about to have a little girl who will pretty much run their life for the next eighteen plus years.

that thought doesn’t scare him as much as it used to, as much as it did when he had nightmares about niall miscarrying and bleeding out all over the sheets of their bed.

“you alright?”

niall’s tilting his head back when zayn climbs back onto the bed, and zayn kisses him evenly on the mouth, nodding into it and nestling into him.

“yeah. just thinking.”

“well, stop. c’mon, go to sleep.”

\--

zayn’s downstairs watching the tv when he hears niall squawk from the upstairs bathroom, and he’s never flown up the steps as quickly as he has when he hears _that_ , and he stands in the doorframe, eyebrows furrowed in concern as he scans niall’s body up and down.

niall’s standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, and he runs a hand over his face in an attempt to ease some of the redness.

“… what’s… ?”

the blonde uncrosses his arms, and splattered across the gray fabric of his thin jumper there are gray circles of wetness, and the knowledge that niall’s body is going to feed the baby naturally, male or not, pops into his mind, and zayn’s mouth opens in a silent ‘oh.’

“you already know what it is, don’t you?” niall’s groaning and running a hand through the mostly brown mop of his hair, and zayn nods.

“you have to wear, those, um… i think they’re breast pads, or something.” he fumbles with his hands, and niall looks at him with a face reminiscent of someone told they have a terminal illness.

“no. no fucking – those are for girls.”

“so is pregnancy, but your body magically found a way to make _that_ happen.”

niall opens his mouth to protest, but within the hour zayn’s made his way to a local tesco’s, dug around in the back enough and niall’s sitting with medically taped breast pads and a baggy hoodie crosslegged on the sofa.

zayn’s making dinner, and niall’s looking bemusedly at his stomach, poking around to find the hard knobby elbows and feet pressing out through his skin.

“you’re a pain in the butt, ems,” he says softly, and zayn lets the soup on the stove simmer as he slides next to him on the couch, greeted with a kiss and niall taking his hand and pressing it to the top of his belly.

“love you.”

“love you, too,” and zayn feels a rush of warmth that he hasn’t felt since he and niall first confessed their feelings in shitty bunkbeds in harry’s stepdad’s bungalow in cheshire.

niall spends the rest of the night with his feet in zayn’s lap, propped up with pillows on the sofa, taking great amusement in the fact that he can balance his empty bowl on his belly and watch their daughter kick it to the other side of him.

zayn’s come to terms with the fact that niall’s comfort now takes a higher position than anything in his life, so he’s fine with kneading at the soles of his feet, feeling his face turn red when niall moans in a way that seems a little more than out of simple pleasure, and zayn again is not surprised when he finds himself scraping at niall’s chest later on, fingers tweaking pert pink nipples, and niall shudders when small milky droplets roll down the curve of his stomach.

he forbids zayn from mentioning anything about it at breakfast the next morning.


End file.
